Page 125 of The Prince of Demons

As long as he was still willing to love someone as broken and indecisive as me.

* * *

He wasn’tin the garden of spiderwebs and ash trees. Nor was he in the library (which was spectacular). He wasn’t in the servant’s quarters I accidentally entered (although they were quite surprised to see me there!)

I’d even sent him a note via servant.

Find me.

The spirit had disappeared and never returned. After waiting for what felt like an eternity, I kept moving down the halls.

How much time had passed in the mortal world? How long until people noticed I was absent? If mother realized I was gone, she might summon a portal to the other side herself.

Let her try. I could take her.

I wandered into another wing, sending a different message.

I tire of exercise. You could at least send me a map so that I know where I’m going. This palace is too big.

Like the first, the servant vanished without a trace.

I bluffed to the next one.

Gaksi says you miss me. Come out and prove it.

Nothing. For all I knew, he was frolicking in a meadow with Gaksi right now.

Infuriating demon.

Sam had appeared a moment later, flying and tilting her head for me to follow. Excited, I sprinted after her, only to pause at the entrance to a massive throne room.

Heavy obsidian doors creaked open, revealing a vast, dimly lit space with stone floors and otherworldly stillness. A throne taller than a mountain centered the room. It radiated power, made of solid gold and adorned with intricate patterns and motifs. Atop it sat an older man with Reaper’s exact resemblance. I knew who it was immediately.

“Yeomra, King of the Dead, father of my absent friend,” I said with equal parts fear and reverence, dropping into a deep bow.

His grey skin and deep black hair resembled an immortal corpse. His eyes, dark as an abyss, flashed with curiosity, anger, or fascination. Perhaps all three.

He lounged back in his chair, exuding an aura of death. In a voice that was both ancient and primal, rasped, “There is the source of my son’s frustration.”

The power in his voice nearly threw me back to the wall. I instinctively braced my shadows around myself as a shield.

“Your Highness,” I said. “Were you expecting me, or may you inform me where your son is?”

Dangerous, dangerous game I was playing. But I was angry, and I was impatient.

He crooked a finger. Wide, arching shadows pushed me from behind, forcing me to stumble forward until I landed on my knees in front of the throne. From this vantage point, he was so much taller, intimidating, godly. “Let me get a good look at you, girl.”

He rose and brought his hand to my neck. He—softly, frighteningly—raised my chin so that he could grasp my face. His fingers were stiff. Dead.

“You look like your namesake,” he uttered.

“The moon?”

“No, the last Princess Deokhye.” He chuckled darkly. He had a classically handsome face, even for his age. Reaper’s strong features resembled his.

I never knew Deokhye was a princess. Did that mean I was royalty, too? Then maybe it wouldn’t be so unusual for me to be pursued by a prince. Hope surged, so intense I nearly smiled at the vengeful force before me.

“Gaksi did well in choosing your bloodline.” He drew back, and the mounting pressure of his shadows released.

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